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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372214">morning breaths</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/willa_james/pseuds/willa_james'>willa_james</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>brave new world [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, F/F, Family Fluff, M/M, Self-Acceptance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:48:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/willa_james/pseuds/willa_james</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Harry and Louis were never famous, and they have a daughter.<br/>They're perfectly in love, and their daughter has all she could ever want.<br/>Sofie knows she can trust her parents, but she's always been scared to tell them her secret.<br/>How can she work up the courage to tell them the thing she's been hiding for years?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, OFC/OFC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>brave new world [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>morning breaths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi!<br/>This is my very first work. It'll probably be really bad. I might delete it. <br/>But hey! <br/>I'm really excited about this one. I hope you all love it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. <br/>Just a quick FYI: Nothing I write is in any way meant to imply anything about the people in this fic. I respect all the characters here and my intent is not to be disrespectful or rude in any way. I'm just writing this because I have a lot of beautiful thoughts that need to be put into words! :)<br/>Also I'm Canadian and have no idea how things work in the UK. So, for all intents and purposes, they live in Banff.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I can’t remember the last time I heard my parents argue. I think once I heard rushed whispering, maybe some cracked voices, and maybe even a heavily shut door, but I remember that that argument was mostly crying and lasted about five minutes. The next morning, Papa wrote a song for Dad. It was beautiful and we all cried and went out for ice cream that afternoon.<br/>But for as long as I can remember, my parents have ended every argument in the late night and made up in the early morning. That’s part of the reason I love the morning so much. It’s a time for new beginnings, a time where the sun rises again, letting you choose how you start your day. It’s soft guitar notes and warm pullovers and tea in the winter. It’s whispered sweet nothings and tackle-hugs and French toast and 70’s music. It’s love and it’s fresh and it’s the best part of my day.</p>
<p>I think I’ve always dealt with anxiety. I know both my dads have those issues too, but for whatever reason, I’ve always tried valiantly to hide it. I think I’ve done pretty well so far, but I know I have to tell someone. It’s difficult sometimes. It feels like a thousand-pound-weight on my chest, a voice in the back of my head telling me something’s not right.</p>
<p>The darkness of my room at night doesn’t help much, and that’s why morning is always a relief. The morning sunlight is like a cold shower, stripping away all the panic and worry from the night before, and at the same time it’s like a warm beam of reassurance, telling me that you’re right where you need to be. In the morning, everything’s all right, and in the morning, I can start over again.</p>
<p>                                                                                                                               ~*~</p>
<p>I wake up to the sound of soft singing and guitar. The morning sun drifts through my window like pale yellow streamers, and cool air drifts past my face in silk ribbons. Sighing, I roll over to grab my glasses, gazing out the window. My parents sit in the garden below me, Dad strumming his guitar and Papa laughing and singing along.</p>
<p>I smile as I gaze down at them. Dad and Papa met in high school, and they fell in love instantly. They’ve been in love like teenagers for as long as I can remember. My Aunt Gemma always tells me how her and my Aunt Lottie could hardly stomach being around them when they first met.</p>
<p>“The flirting was unbearable,” Gemma had told me. “Lottie and I were honestly just exasperated when they finally got together, your dads. They’d been absolutely sickening for-” she laughs- “as long as they’d known each other.”</p>
<p>Aunt Lottie cut in, laughing gently as she did. “I had the nerve to tell them they had practically dating for years,” she smiled. “Lou didn’t speak to me for a couple weeks after that, remember, Gems?”</p>
<p>Shaking myself out of my reverie, I turn away from the window and away from the memories. I pad across the floor, nearly tripping over a large potted plant as I do so. It’s become a habit of mine, bringing in plants from the garden whenever I feel the need. Each time things get too overwhelming, I push it away using plants. It feels like taking care of something and keeping something alive calms me down more than any therapy. </p>
<p>As I open the door, I’m bombarded by a wave of calm. It surprises me- I haven’t felt this way in a while. It feels good, to know that you’re safe and loved in a place that’s full to bursting with joy and affection.</p>
<p>I make my way to the kitchen from my bedroom. Stepping under the archway, I can feel my nose scrunch up at the overwhelming stench of burned toast. I laugh- my dad has never been good at cooking. I’ve heard enough cooking horror stories from Papa and my aunts to know well enough that it’s best to steer clear of any situations where Dad could touch any cooking appliances.</p>
<p>Pulling a bowl of fruit and some oat milk from the fridge, I creep outside to sit on the deck. As I watch my parents, my heart melts a bit. They’re saying things to each other that I can’t hear, and it makes me happy to see them happy. </p>
<p>As I gaze on fondly, Dad whips his head around. “I swear to God, Sofie, you’re going to get arrested for stalking if you keep watching us like that! You’re such a creep,” he says, setting the guitar down to greet me. </p>
<p>“Sorry, people,” I say, laughing. “Y’all are too cute. I can’t handle it, honestly. Tone it down.”</p>
<p>“Well, Fi, if you’re so disgusted by us, maybe you should just, like, not watch us creepily every morning,” Papa points out. I laugh.</p>
<p>“I guess. But then I’d have to stay in my room all day, and I absolutely refuse to do that. Not when we live here,” I say, waving my hand in a sweeping gesture around our backyard. </p>
<p>It’s practically a forest, and you can see the mountains, tall and looming, just above the crystal blue water that flows through the river across the path. </p>
<p>My parents laugh, and usher me inside with promises of breakfast and a trip to the town nearby for a walk later today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                                                                                                           ~*~</p>
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